


see, i’m in love with how your soul’s a mix of chaos and art (and how you never try to keep them apart)

by Finduilas



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Art appreciation, But only a tiny bit, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Museums, Tony goes all out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2021-02-13 08:13:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21491158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finduilas/pseuds/Finduilas
Summary: Tony asks Steve out on a date. Or, at least he thinks he does...
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 39
Kudos: 347





	see, i’m in love with how your soul’s a mix of chaos and art (and how you never try to keep them apart)

**Author's Note:**

> I asked for a fluffy Stony prompt and Loving_Wolf suggested dating, and then this fic happened. :) 
> 
> Thank you to Gemma for the quick beta!
> 
> Title from 'Outnumbered' by Dermot Kenedy, because I think it fits both Tony and Steve.

Tony can hardly believe his ears when Steve says yes. 

He’s a man that knows what he wants, and goes for it. He doesn’t often get scared, just keeps his eyes on the goal and tries. And sure, failure is a part of it. He’s had his ass kicked more than once. But his philosophy is that he won’t know until he tries. The thing that Tony is most afraid of is missed opportunities. He’d rather take his chances and get shut down than live with the knowledge that he might have missed out on something. He knows it drives a lot of people around him insane, but it’s the only way Tony knows how to do things. 

So when Tony realizes that the feelings he’s harboring for Steve are more than just platonic - and surprisingly enough, also more than just physical - Tony decides to ask Steve out on a date. He’s almost certain Steve will say no, will let him down easy - because Steve is just that kind of guy - and it will be awkward for a while but they’ll make it through. Tony will get over it, but at least he’ll know. He won’t have to live with any regrets. It’s the Tony Stark way of life. 

He braces himself. He prepares himself for the sting of seeing Steve’s face falter, for the hurt of being rejected, for the days or weeks of awkwardness between them afterwards that he is confident they’ll get over. Steve is a good guy, annoyingly so, and Tony is sure he won’t hold Tony’s feelings against him. Tony is ready. Tony is prepared. 

So when Steve actually says yes, quickly and with a bright smile on his face, Tony is genuinely caught by surprise. Yes, it’s everything he wanted, but it definitely wasn’t what he was expecting. He had an entire speech prepared for when Steve would say no, to assure Steve that things would okay between them, that it was “no big deal” - which was a gigantic lie, of course - everything to make it easier on Steve. Tony would eat his feelings later, when he was alone. He’d indulge in some self-pity and then he’d distract himself in his workshop until the hurt subsided and he felt like he could look at Steve again without drowning in want and sorrow. 

But Steve says yes, and all of a sudden Tony doesn’t know how to form words anymore. 

“Oh…” he says, staring at Steve who doesn’t even seem  _ surprised _ . 

“What time should I be ready?” Steve asks, and the casual tone in his voice throws Tony off completely. 

“Uhm.” Tony swallows, willing his brain to function again. “Depends. I can have Happy drive us, or we can take a walk? It’s mostly through Central Park.” 

“Lets walk,” Steve says, which doesn’t surprise Tony one bit and why he suggested it in the first place, “It’ll be nice out. We’ll work up an appetite.” 

“Be ready at six then?” Tony asks, slowly but surely regaining his composure. 

“Perfect,” Steve smiles, before going back to the book he was reading, like nothing unusual has happened. 

“Perfect…” Tony repeats softly, allowing his gaze to linger on Steve for a second. 

Then he turns away slowly, already taking his phone out of his pocket as he leaves the room. He’s got dinner reservations to make and a museum director to call in a favor from. 

***

Steve is reliable as ever and ready at exactly the agreed upon time, and Tony nearly swallows his tongue when he takes in the sight of Steve in a crisp white tailored shirt, the collar falling open a little bit, hem tucked neatly into a tight pair of dark blue jeans that does wonders for his ass. Granted, a burlap sack would do wonders for Steve’s ass, Steve’s ass  _ being _ a wonder, but that is beside the point. 

Tony himself opted for a dark grey - almost black - three piece suit, and he doesn’t regret that choice when Steve’s eyes roam over it and he says, “You look nice.” 

“Look who’s talking,” Tony says, pursing his lips a little bit as he takes another look at Steve, inhaling sharply. “You clean up good.” 

“Is this okay?” Steve asks, pushing his palms over his chest, flattening his shirt, “Do I need a tie? Or dress pants, or something?” 

“You’re perfect,” Tony says, the breezy tone hiding the truth in his words, “It’s all good.” 

“You said dinner, but I didn’t know how fancy…” Steve trails off a little bit, suddenly seeming somewhat unsure. 

“Nothing too extravagant,” Tony says with the wave of a hand, because he didn’t think that would be Steve’s thing, “And I know the owner, you’re good.” 

Steve seems sufficiently reassured and throws on a brown leather jacket that somehow makes his shoulders seem even wider and his hips even narrower, and Tony has to look away and get them on the road before he does something embarrassing like drool, or worse… jump Steve and kiss him. 

Tony absolutely does plan on kissing Steve this evening, if opportunity presents itself, but he’s fairly certain that Steve is the kind of guy that likes to follow proper date etiquette. So Tony will refrain from doing anything that might mess this up, because he desperately wants this evening to go right. 

So far, things are running smoothly. It’s a decent walk from the Tower towards the restaurant, but it’s late spring, the weather is nice, and Steve can basically run a marathon without having to catch his breath and Tony’s not exactly a couch potato either, so it’s relaxing. Besides, Tony knows that Steve likes to walk around New York, take in the sights, and tonight is all about Steve, as far as Tony’s concerned. 

Their walk is pleasant, the conversation easy and fun, and every now and then Steve’s shoulder bumps into Tony’s as they gravitate towards each other and it brings about something warm and balmy in the pit of Tony’s stomach. 

When they arrive at the restaurant, the owner comes to greet them personally and seats them at the best table. It doesn’t take a minute for two glasses of Champagne to appear in their hands. 

“You get the royal treatment here,” Steve chuckles as their waiter walks away, “Is there anyone in New York that you don’t know?” 

“Nothing but the best for my date,” Tony smiles instead of actually answering, and Steve’s eyes flicker up to Tony’s rapidly as something unreadable washes over his face. But then Tony raises his glass and holds it out at Steve, and Steve smiles again, mimicking Tony’s movement until their glasses touch. 

“Cheers,” Tony says, and he’s almost sure he detects the hint of a blush on Steve’s cheeks. He doesn’t even try and convince himself that it isn’t the most adorable thing Tony’s ever seen. 

Steve asks what Tony recommends - since Tony knows the place - and Tony’s quite pleased that Steve readily follows his judgement, _ and _ absolutely loves it. Steve is still raving about the food, even as they leave the restaurant, and Tony is mentally giving himself gold stars every time Steve says something positive about the evening, or gives Tony a compliment. 

Tony is  _ definitely _ planning on kissing Steve at the end of this date. 

They make the short walk towards the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Steve had mentioned wanting to go and Tony had filed that information away under ‘useful things to know about Steve Rogers’. That particular file - and yes, he had JARVIS make an actual list - had become remarkably lengthy over the past few months. 

As they arrive, they’re greeted by a warm glow that is hugging the museum building as it is beautifully lit up. They step past the fountain - equally gorgeously lit - and Tony guides Steve up the stairs to the main entrance, a lonesome doorman letting them in instantly. As they walk into the hall, Steve looks around with wide eyes, a frown appearing on his forehead. 

“Tony?” he asks, spinning around slowly as he takes in his surroundings. 

“Yeah,” Tony says, biting back a smirk since he has an idea of what Steve is about to comment on. 

“There’s nobody here,” Steve says, a confused look on his face. 

“I know,” Tony grins, shrugging off his jacket and handing it to the doorman. He reaches towards the collar of Steve’s leather jacket and Steve lets Tony take it off almost on autopilot, his lips parted slightly as he looks at Tony, bewildered. 

“The museum is closed,” Steve states, watching in confusion as Tony now hands Steve’s jacket to the doorman as well, who takes it and walks away briskly, leaving the two of them alone in the big entrance hall of the otherwise empty museum. 

“I know a guy,” Tony says with a broad smile, and he really shouldn’t be taking this much pleasure in Steve’s perplexity, but he likes it when he’s able to surprise Steve. 

“The museum is actually closed?” Steve asks, as he’s trying to make absolutely sure. 

“I thought you might enjoy it more without the large crowds,” Tony shrugs, taking a few steps forward into the hall, “Did you know they have thousands of visitors every day? I thought this would be nicer.” 

“Tony, did you…?” Steve stammers, frozen in his spot, “Wha - ?  _ How? _ ” 

“I know a guy,” Tony repeats, trying to keep his tone light because he can tell Steve is somewhat overwhelmed. So Tony takes a few steps back to Steve, places a hand reassuringly on his arm. “It’s not a big deal. I just figured we’d have more fun this way. Just… it’s more relaxing. You can focus on the art, not the dozens of people bumping into you or blocking your view. Big crowds are only fun when they’re admiring you up on a stage.” He quips, winking at Steve for good measure. 

“Tony, this…” Steve shakes his head, and for a second Tony thinks that Steve is going to say that this is too much, that Tony has tried too hard, that it’s bordering on pathetic - oh yes, all of Tony’s demons are ready to jump out at him at a moment’s notice - and that Steve is going to be completely weirded out. But he manages to push down that fear as he catches the wondrous look in Steve’s eyes as he says, “This is incredible.” It comes out as a puff of air, and it jump-starts a smile on Tony’s face. 

“Come on,” Tony says, relief washing over him. He reaches out and grabs Steve’s hand. “I think you’ll like this.” 

Tony leads Steve towards the exhibit of Valentin de Boulogne, before letting go of his hand again, and Steve’s eyes go wide and full of amazement as he looks around at the big paintings surrounding them. “Oh my God,” Steve breathes out, eyes fixed on the art. 

Tony watches as Steve alternates between observing a painting from a distance, taking it in as a whole, then huddling close to immerse himself in the details. Sometimes his fingers twitch, as if he’s itching to reach out and touch, but he never actually does, of course. Sometimes Steve stands there in silence, soaking in the images in front of him, and sometimes he pulls Tony a little bit closer, urging him to check out every last particularity of the painting as Steve’s mouth runs a mile an hour with explanations and interpretations. Tony nods and listens, but his eyes fall on Steve more often than on the works of Valentin de Boulogne. 

As they make their way to the Master Drawings of the Robert Lehman Collection, Steve asks suddenly, “How much time do we have?” 

Tony can already see Steve’s mind working, trying to figure out how to get the most out of the experience, torn between wanting to see every single work of art in the building and maybe staring at one single piece for over an hour, breathing in every single detail. 

“As long as you want,” Tony says, eyes roaming over a study of a ballet dancer on the wall. 

“Seriously,” Steve says, and Tony can’t help but smile. 

“Don’t you know yet that when I say shit like that, I mean it?” he asks, looking at Steve pointedly. Tony has to admit, he’s quite pleased with himself. 

“You’re insane,” Steve says, the last word ending in a breathless chuckle. His eyes are wide again, flickering between Tony and the many sketches plastered over the walls, like he can’t decide where to put his focus. 

“Yeah, well…” Tony says with a wave of his hand as he deliberately turns away in his trademark mix of casual and over the top and starts walking around the room. His eyes fall on a watercolor of a girl in a blue dress. “I’ve seen your drawings,” Tony says, tilting his head slightly, “I like your stuff better.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Steve barks out, shocked, “You really  _ are _ insane!” 

“ _ Les goûts et les couleurs… _ ” Tony says in his best French - which isn’t brilliant, he knows - shrugging. 

“Not when you’re comparing me to Renoir, Tony!” Steve calls out, laughing. 

Tony hums as he clasps his hands together behind his back and leans forward to take another good look at the sketch. “Maybe he had an off day?” Tony says, like he’s pondering, and he knows he’s pushing it but it’s all worth it to hear Steve laugh out loud at his silliness. 

“How does a man with a vast art collection like yours have absolutely no knowledge of art?” Steve asks, shaking his head amused. 

“I know what I like,” Tony says, genuine, his eyes fixed on Steve. “And it doesn’t have to be a big name or something famous. I just know what I think is beautiful.” 

The amused smile on Steve’s face transforms slowly into a soft expression as he looks at Tony contemplatively. “And what do you think is beautiful?” Steve asks, his voice even and low. 

The word ‘ _ you _ ’ is on the tip of Tony’s tongue, and he struggles quietly not to let it slip out. Instead, he lets the silence between them run just a tad too long before he says, “Come on.” Tony’s fingers reach out to brush almost nonexistent at Steve’s wrist, an invitation to follow him, which Steve does without question. 

They remain silent as Tony leads Steve where he knows he wants to go, and there’s something in the air that is palpable and crackling, and if there was still any doubt in Tony’s mind it fades with every passing minute… he’s in love. 

“This,” Tony says as he enters the hall and is greeted by marble and bronze, plaster and terracotta. His eyes flick over the statues quickly, drawn over to Steve again who inhales sharply, then sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Tony is standing in a room filled with breathtaking marble statues, but he is convinced that Steve is the most beautiful creation in here. 

“Wow,” Steve breathes out, instinctively drawn to the white polished hand emerging from a large rough block of marble, holding two figures in it. 

“The Hand of God... ” Tony doesn’t have to read it off the description as he joins Steve in front of the sculpture. 

“If you’re going to compare my sketches to Rodin, I might have to throw you out the window,” Steve says, almost breathless, not taking his eyes off the piece of art in front of him. 

“I might let you,” Tony says earnestly, and as he smiles over at Steve, Steve’s eyes catch his. “Rodin is one of my favorites.” 

“So you do have good taste after all,” Steve says, a fond expression on his face that makes Tony’s insides melt. 

“I have my moments,” Tony replies softly, his mouth twitching as he can’t seem to look away from Steve. Steve looks thoroughly impressed, like he’s having a good time; he looks  _ happy _ , and that’s something more valuable to Tony than all the - albeit incredible - artwork in this hall. 

Steve looks over at the next statue, walking around it to observe it from all sides. “I know this story,” Steve says, mesmerized by the white polished body emerging from the unfinished stone, “The sculptor Pygmalion carved the statue of this beautiful woman, Galatea. And he desired her so much that Venus herself granted Galatea life.” 

“That’s quite the reward,” Tony murmurs, not specifying to Steve that he knew the mythology. He looks over at the  _ Hand of God _ , then back to this one and says, “I love it when the statues seem to appear out of this rough, unfinished base. It’s like you can see them being created right in front of you, like it’s still moving…” 

“It figures…” Steve says, a gentle glance at Tony, who shoots him a questioning look back. 

“You’re a creator, Tony,” Steve clarifies, looking at him fondly. “You might not start off with a block of marble, but what you make out of nothing, from just the ideas in your head and the skill in your hands… that’s art too.” 

Tony feels like every last puff of air has been knocked out of his lungs as he looks at Steve, stupefied. He thinks that might be the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said about him, and he knows Steve well enough to know that if he said it, he means it. 

He knows he’s probably been silent for too long when Steve says, with a ducked head and a shy smile, “You look like nobody’s ever paid you a compliment before, Tony.” 

“Not quite like that, no,” Tony manages to say eventually, and the thought that Steve thinks so highly of him makes him a little bit lightheaded. 

“Tony…” Steve says, a content sigh escaping his lips as he looks around the room. “This is incredible.” Tony can’t tell whether he’s talking about the sculpture, the museum, or the evening. “I can’t believe you did this,” Steve says in wonder. 

“I wanted to do something nice for our first date,” Tony says, smiling, “I figured you’d - ”

“ _ What? _ ” Steve says, interrupting Tony softly. His entire face is contorting in confusion all of a sudden and Tony stops in his tracks, wondering what he’s done wrong. 

“What’s wrong?” Tony asks, a sense of dread washing over him at the sight of Steve’s sudden lost face. 

“Fi -  _ Date? _ ” Steve stammers, his eyebrows knitting together as he stares at Tony. 

“Yeah, I…” Tony starts, now sharing in Steve’s confusion, “Steve, I asked you out on a date, you said - ” 

“ _ You asked me out on a date? _ ” Steve calls out over him, dumbfounded. 

“ - yes…” Tony finishes his sentence with a beat, and the wonderful feeling he’d been having all evening drains out of him in an instant, replaced by something cold and hard. He feels… empty, all of a sudden. “I asked you out,” Tony says firmly, because he doesn’t understand why Steve doesn’t seem to remember this all of a sudden. 

“You asked if I was busy, if I wanted to have dinner,” Steve says, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “And then go see an exhibition, I didn’t…”

“That’s a date, Steve!” Tony calls out probably a little bit too forceful but this is not his mistake, dammit, he was clear about this, he did everything right! “That’s like dinner and a movie. A date!  _ I said so _ , at the restaurant!” 

“I thought it was a joke, you were just being you,” Steve says, flustered, his hands waving around, “I thought you just wanted to hang out. How do you - ? What do you - ?”

“Oh my God,” Tony says around a whisper, then louder as the reality of the entire evening dawns on him, “Oh my God!” 

Steve never thought of this as a date. The only reason he said yes was because he didn’t know what he was saying yes  _ to _ , and Tony’s heart feels like a million pieces of shrapnel have just pierced its way through it. 

For everything that Tony had rehearsed he’d say if Steve told him no, he can’t remember a single piece. And Steve is still looking at him like he’s utterly lost, as if he can’t quite understand what just happened. Tony wants to reassure him, like he told himself he would, but breathing is becoming difficult right this second, let alone speaking. 

He turns away from Steve in hopes of regaining some composure and maybe staving off a panic attack and his eyes fall on the sculpture of  _ Eternal Spring _ , two figures arching into each other, kissing. The white marble seems to mock him now, taunting him with everything he wants but can’t have… 

“You didn’t say the word date…” Steve says behind him, feeble. 

Tony snorts, humorlessly. Maybe he didn’t, he doesn’t recall his exact words. “I thought it was clear, I…” Tony shakes his head. How could Steve not get this? Tony cleared the entire Met for him, for God’s sake! 

“I didn’t think…” Steve says, his voice sounding small and apologetic, “In my day…” 

Tony’s head snaps back to Steve, who’s standing there with hunched shoulders and a pinched expression on his face. It all falls into place somehow. 

“Oh my God…” Tony whispers, rubbing a hand over his face as it dawns on him, “You never thought of a man asking another man out on a date.” 

There’s a blush creeping up on Steve’s neck, in stark contrast with the white of his shirt. “That would pretty much have gotten the life beaten out of you when I grew up,” Steve admits, which might explain why Steve looks so utterly scared right now. Guilt washes over Tony as he realizes that he’s to blame. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Tony breathes out. This is definitely not where he thought this evening was headed. “Okay, well…” Tony says, reality dawning on him that Steve truly is from another era, “It’s pretty normal now. I mean, there are some assholes that are still not okay with it, and that sucks, but overall the world has changed, accepted, has realized that it’s just like anything else. I mean, it’s just love, and…” Tony shrugs, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to stop them from shaking. He knows he’s babbling, and his gaze can’t quite reach Steve’s eyes anymore. 

“Yeah, no, that’s…” Steve nods, awkwardly, “That’s good.” 

“So yeah…” Tony lets out a deep breath. “I’m an idiot because I didn’t even stop to think that this might be an issue for you. You’re getting the hang of this modern day life pretty well, you seem to be comfortable and fitting in, and I never thought maybe you’d still have some stuff ingrained in you from back then, and…” 

“It’s not - ” Steve rushes out, then shaking his head, “I never agreed with that kind of thinking, Tony. I need you to know that.” He searches out Tony’s eyes, and if this was coming from anyone else Tony might think it was just something they’d say, to keep the peace, but he knows that Steve is just so damn honest all the time that it has to be the truth. 

“You’re a good guy, Cap,” Tony says, swallowing away the disappointment from the last few minutes as he gives Steve a quick pat on the shoulder and turns away from him again, pretending to be interested in the statues on his way. “Listen, uhm… you’ve got the museum for as long as you want. I can head home and make sure Happy comes and picks you up when you’re done if you’d rather be alone.”

“Tony…” Steve calls out softly from somewhere behind him. 

“I mean, I get that this has turned out to be something you definitely weren’t expecting, so…” Tony goes on, his finger tracing the outline of a pedestal as he walks by, even though he knows he isn’t supposed to. But fuck, nothing is as it’s supposed to anymore. 

“ _ Tony _ ,” Steve says again, so pointedly that Tony turns to look at him almost automatically. “Yes.” 

“Okay,” Tony says, nodding, eyes blinking rapidly in a feeble attempt to straighten himself out. “Okay, yeah, I’ll call Happy, let him know.” Tony is already making a mental note to have JARVIS do the calling, because he isn’t quite sure he wants to hear the pity in Happy’s voice when he undoubtedly catches on to the bad ending of this evening. But Tony will make sure Steve gets home safely, while he himself debates on whether to lock himself in his workshop - creating things with that supposedly brilliant mind and hands of his, the words taste bitter in his mouth right now - or to just empty out his liquor cabinet and drink himself into a stupor until he can’t remember Steve’s name anymore. 

He is so lost in thoughts, in swallowing away the hurt and disappointment that he doesn’t even realize Steve is standing right in front of him until he calls out his name again. 

“That’s not what I was saying yes to,” Steve says, and Tony wouldn’t hear the slight tremble in Steve’s voice if he didn’t know every nuance of it so damn well. 

“Huh?” Tony opens his mouth, but no other words come out. 

“Do you still want to… ask me?” Steve asks, his eyes locking with Tony’s, his breathing heavier than usual. “On a date, I mean. With the actual word ‘date’ in the question so my brain knows how to process it.” There’s a small smile tugging at Steve’s lips, and it seems to tug at Tony’s heartstrings at the same time, removing tiny pieces of ache one by one. 

“Will your heart though?” Tony asks, unsure, because even though he didn’t realize it before, he’s starting to get now what a big deal this is for someone like Steve. 

“I think my heart was always on board,” Steve admits, softly, his head turned down towards Tony. “It’s just that the rest of me didn’t quite realize that this… could be a reality.” 

“Did you think about it?” Tony asks, quietly.  _ Did you think about me? _ He means. 

“No,” Steve says, and the word leaves another cut inside of Tony’s chest. Steve probably sees the damage on Tony’s face, and he reaches out a hand to brush over Tony’s arm as he adds, “Because it was easier to ignore. I’d gotten good at that, way back when. And I had other things to deal with then. I just… it wasn’t an option.” 

It makes sense, but it still fills Tony with a feeling of sadness. 

“Does it scare you now?” Tony asks, not because he wants to put Steve on the spot, but because he wants to understand, and wants to help Steve be who he is, be happy, be comfortable. 

“Yeah,” Steve says, and Tony feels so damn lucky that Steve is baring his soul to him like this. “But I’ve been scared of things before and somehow I always seem to jump in anyway, head first.” 

Tony huffs out a small laugh. He knows the stories about the scrawny kid from Brooklyn, and in a way, Steve probably hasn’t changed much in that regard. 

“I get that this is probably more than you bargained for,” Steve says, shoving his hands in his pockets as he gives Tony an apologetic look. “So I understand if you just want to…” 

Tony knows that Steve giving him an out is just one of those generous, selfless, Captain America things that Steve does, but dammit, Tony doesn’t want out. Not a single thing that Steve has said has changed Tony’s mind. So before Steve can even go on by offering him more ways to gently back-track, Tony lifts his chin up and takes a deep breath, then asks, “Steve Grant Rogers. Would you please go on a date with me?” He doesn’t rush the words out, tries to keep his voice calm and steady. “And I do mean dating romantically. Just so we’re absolutely clear.” 

Steve’s eyes blink rapidly a few times, and his mouth does this twitchy thing like he’s trying to stop himself from full on smiling and he says, full of conviction, “Yes.” 

“Good,” Tony says, to himself, then at Steve, “Good. ‘cause it would have been kind of embarrassing if after all that, you would have said no again.” 

“I didn’t actually say no before,” Steve points out. 

“That doesn’t count though, because you didn’t know what you were saying yes to,” Tony argues, tilting his head a little bit to get a good look at the smile appearing on Steve’s face. “You just thought we’d be ‘hanging out’.” 

“And I do wanna hang out with you,  _ obviously _ ,” Steve smiling at him fondly. 

“Yeah, but there’s so many more fun ways to hang out,” Tony smirks, “With added kissing privileges and all.” 

There’s a blush creeping over Steve’s face rapidly, and the smile is overtaken by something startled, and Tony wants to curse himself for his candor. 

“I’m sorry, I was just…” Tony shakes his head, trying to reassure Steve. “There will only be kissing if and when you’re comfortable with it, Steve. I swear…” 

Steve nods, his face contorted like a million different thoughts are running through his head - which Tony figures there probably are. But then Steve takes a step closer to Tony, his right hand reaches out to rest ever so gently on Tony’s side - a barely there contact - and he leans down, inching closer to Tony. Tony closes his eyes as Steve’s lips reach his, a soft but steady touch, and Tony doesn’t dare to move for fear of breaking this moment. The kiss is chaste, as Tony lets Steve lead, but it’s  _ there _ and it’s everything Tony could ever have hoped for. 

Tony’s eyes don’t open until Steve pulls away slowly, the sensation of Steve’s lips still lingering on his, and Tony is greeted by Steve looking into his eyes, full of wonder. Steve’s hand is still nestled in Tony’s side, steadying himself. 

“Head first,” Steve whispers shakily, but his blossoming smile reassures Tony that he doesn’t regret it, despite the fear. 

“Bravest man I know,” Tony says gently, returning the smile. 

“To embark on a romantic adventure with Tony Stark?” Steve smirks, clearly pleased with himself, “Without a doubt.” 

“I’ll be gentle,” Tony says, and it comes out as a quip but he knows Steve knows the truth that’s behind it. 

Tony looks over to the side, the statue of Eternal Spring suddenly turned into something of extraordinary beauty again. 

“It’s beautiful,” Steve says, looking over at the statue, as if he’s reading Tony’s mind. “Thank you, Tony, for bringing me here.” 

“Thank you for allowing me to share it with you,” Tony replies, and as he looks at Steve, he thinks that Rodin could probably have made the most beautiful statue in the universe with Steve as a model. 

“Do we really have all night if we want to?” Steve asks with a smirk, and Tony doesn’t even dignify the question with an answer, just spreads the fingers of his hands as he waves them down in front of him, as if to say ‘you know who you’re dealing with, right?’ Steve just smiles fondly at him. 

“Wanna see the Michelangelo exhibit?” Tony asks, ‘cause he can ask questions he knows the answer to as well. 

Steve’s eyes go wide and bright, and he nods eagerly. Tony reaches out his hand, meeting Steve halfway to make sure Steve can decide for himself. But Steve smiles and takes Tony’s hand in his, as they start walking along, lingering near the statue of Cupid and Psyche. 

“I would have commissioned him,” Tony says, deadpan, eyes scanning the white marble up to the tips of Cupid’s wings. 

“The insane part is that you genuinely would have,” Steve says, squeezing Tony’s hand slightly. 

“ _ Captain America and Iron Man _ ,” Tony muses out loud, just to make Steve smile some more, “Marble, a rough base, maybe me flying up out of the block with you in my arms.” 

“A true work of art,” Steve indulges Tony, smiling fondly. 

“I’d like to think so,” Tony says as they slowly walk out of the hall, their fingers slotting together perfectly. 

***

_ Fin  _


End file.
